Beauty and the Beast: A Leatherhead Story
by Tortugita
Summary: Thrown into a conspiracy that has been breeding in her own home and suddenly under the care of mutants, including a ferocious looking and bad tempered giant crocodile, Brooke is discovering that beauty is only scale deep.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I do not own the Ninja Turtles or any familiar characters. I do, however, own Brooke and Ronald Thompson and this plot.

WARNING: This story does contain interspecies romance between Leatherhead and a human girl! If this bothers you, then leave now. You've been warned. For the remainder of you, I felt like our favorite crocodile needed some loving, too. I'm not writing based off of any particular series, but you may see aspects from many of them.

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Beauty and the Beast: A Leatherhead Story

Rated: M

Chapter One:

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Brooke Thompson tucked a shoebox under her arm as she unlocked the door to the flat she shared with her father. She turned the key slowly, holding her breath and hoping that the old lock wouldn't make any noise. Unfortunately, just as she finished the turn, it clicked loudly and she winced, pushing the door open. Thankfully, her father was no where to be seen in the messy living room. His usual spot at the desk in the corner was abandoned, papers strewn messily across the surface. There was no television in the room, instead tables of aquariums and plastic critter keepers crowded around.

Their home was small, only having one bedroom, which Brooke sacrificed for her father, Ronald Thompson. She slept in the living room on the couch and made no effort to hide the fact. Her pillow rested on one side and her black and white polka dot blanket was draped haphazardly on the cushions. Her text books and notebooks were piled on the coffee table where several abandoned mugs gathered from late night study sessions. She went to the local university majoring in Animal Science with the hopes of becoming a vet.

She had a horrible habit of adopting animals, particularly reptiles. Under her arm, her newest adoption made little noise as it moved around in it's confines. Dark blue eyes darting left and right, the girl tip toed past the living room and kitchen, where days worth of dishes were piled in the sink. Still no sign of the older man. She had a feeling that he was reading in his room. Which, unfortunately was right beside the closet she needed to get to. His door was closed, so if she was quiet enough, she'd be able to get hold of a critter keeper and sneak back to the living room without alerting him. She seriously doubted that he'd notice one more cage among the dozen others she had.

Brooke didn't dare set the shoebox down for fear of her little friend escaping as she stretched to the top shelf where the plastic cages were neatly stacked. Height had never been on her side. It wasn't enough that she inherited thick thighs, she had to be squat, too. Her fingers brushed the corner of the cages and they moved slightly, but not enough for her to knock them down and catch them. She jumped and yelped when an arm reached past her and pulled them down for her.

Squeaking, the blond whirled and smiled sheepishly up at the man towering over her and scowling. Ronald sighed wearily down at his curly haired daughter giving him her best puppy eyes. Lord knew where she got her good looks. Her mother wasn't a looker and the girl certainly inherited nothing from him. His silver streaked raven hair fell loosely into his obsidian eyes, which were narrowed in annoyance and at 6 feet, he towered a foot over her.

"What, pray tell, do you need these for?" He asked, eyeing the box in her arms knowingly. The blasted girl had a heart of gold, but seemed to adopt every scaled critter that so much as looked her way. He was waiting for her to bring home something poisonous one of these days claiming that it was just 'misunderstood'. However, he did have to admit that his daughter had a way with charming her reptiles, some of which were rather aggressive to anyone else.

"Daddy..." She said the word slowly and he sighed heavily. She knew he hated being called that and she only used the word when she was trying to avoid trouble. His eyes narrowed more and he held the critter keepers further out of her reach when she made to jump for them.

"He was abandoned!" She cried, pale cheeks flushing as she scowled back at him," The Shelter has no room for reptiles and no vet to care for them. They're better off with me. Look! He has ticks! And he's sick! See his skin..."

Brooke pulled the lid off the box she carried to reveal a baby Ball Python with pale, partially shed skin and looking dreadfully thin. A couple tiny black dots stood out against the otherwise dry milky coloring that even Ronald knew wasn't healthy. The older man sighed again and wondered briefly why he wasn't given a normal daughter. No, instead of wanting the newest phone or shoes, she carried around an ancient bulky Sony Ericsson, wore ragged old tennis shoes, and blew all her money on animal care products. Their freezer held no real food. Only frozen rodents of varying sizes.

Ronald handed her the plastic cages, muttering darkly under his breath as she cheered happily at her victory. Her father acted like he hated the world and everyone in it, but she knew better. Underneath his prickly exterior, he was a softy. She only wished others could see that side of him, too, but he guarded himself so well that she couldn't help but wonder if he ever wanted to fall in love again. Her mother had died when she was very young, so she couldn't remember her, but she could tell that her father still thought about her everyday. Over twenty years later.

"I am walking to the store to buy pens," The aged man stated as his daughter set up aspen shavings for her new patient. She raised an eye brow and he scowled back, daring her to offer him her ball point pens. For whatever reason, the man hated them. He stubbornly used European style pens for his writing, claiming that ball point pens were crude. In an equally stubborn act, the man refused to use a computer to write anything. When he finished a book, he hired someone to type it for him.

When Brooke offered no argument, the man donned a long black coat and gloves. His finishing touch was a thick black scarf. Brooke rolled her eyes. He always looked so depressed. If he'd just add a _little_ color to his wardrobe, it would do wonders for him! Not to mention the layers he insisted on wearing. It was chilly, but not nearly cold enough to bundle up.

"It's not _that_ cold, dad," She commented, looking skeptically at his attire as he pulled on boots. He sent her a dark look.

"It is cold enough, Brooke," He replied tartly," Lock the door behind me."

Brooke rolled her eyes, not moving from her spot. She'd be fine. Her father had not always been so paranoid, but these days, his worry for her safety was bordering ridiculous. He walked briskly, so his trips to the art store were usually fast. No one would bother her. How the man went through so many pens anyway, was a wonder. He went to the store several times a week! And almost always for the same thing.

As the little make shift terrarium was livable, she pulled the sickly Ball Python from the shoe box. It didn't move much and she knew it was because he was probably refusing food, too. For now, she used some vitamin spray, misting his body with it. Nearby, a bottle of pedialyte water was premixed and she used it to fill a corner shaped water bowl, setting the snake in it to soak for an hour or so. This would help build his energy then she would try feeding it and removing the ticks. She didn't want to stress it out too much for fear of it getting overwhelmed.

Placing the lid over the terrarium, Brooke glanced at the rickety clock which was the only decoration on their living room wall. It showed that her father had been gone roughly fifteen minutes. He'd be back soon, she reasoned, getting up to stand outside and wait for him. The air was chilly and it was late. The normally busy street was mysteriously empty and the girl shivered a little, looking up and down the road curiously. Not a soul wandered tonight. It was very unusual.

Shrugging, Brooke leaned against the wall of their stood and breathed the cool air deeply, shoving her hands into the pocket of her plain gray hoodie. The art store was a couple blocks off, so she figured she may wait another five minutes or so. Her father sometimes spent hours at the art store, but never at night when she'd be home alone.

She'd barely leaned her head against the cool stone when she heard a crash in the alley next to her building. Jumping, she leaned forward and listened for more sound, but none came. She held her breathed and wondered if it was a stray cat. She frowned. That meant that someone recently abandoned one because she was sure she'd caught all of the strays in her neighborhood and turned them into the Humane Society to get shots, fixed, and adopted out to new homes. Huffing, she walked to the alley and looked down it. It was all but consumed in shadow, but she'd walked up and down it enough times to know what was all there.

"Here, Kitty..." She cooed in the sweetest voice she could muster. She hated keeping cats over night in her house because she worried that her reptiles would be bothered, but she could lock it in the bathroom until morning. She'd get up early and bring it straight to the shelter. She clicked her tongue a few times, looking around for the cat. She couldn't see much, but she paused when her foot hit something hard. The something groaned and she stiffened, ready to run if she had to.

Gulping, she reached down to touch what was very likely a person who seemed to be either passed out or sleeping, though after the loud crash she heard, she doubted that he was napping. Instead of touching soft flesh, her hand ran over a hard, rough, curved surface that felt vaguely familiar. Frowning, she kneeled and used both hands to figure out what she was touching. The rough surface seemed to be a... shell?

"Hm," She said to herself, thoroughly confused. She blinked as she found what was quite obviously a head. A bald head. Then a muscled arm that had something warm and sticky coating it. Whatever this was, it was hurt and she knew she wasn't going to leave it there for someone else to find. She rolled the creature onto it's shell and hooked her arms under it's pits. She heaved. He moved an inch.

"You're heavy," She stated bluntly, frowning at the body. Still, she was stubborn. Grunting, she heaved again. Slowly, but surely, she managed to get him to her apartment. Thankfully, the street was still empty, because she could see now that the being was indeed a turtle. A giant man-like turtle. Letting his limp body lean against hers, she reached behind her hip to open the door and she dragged him inside, letting him rest on the living room floor. She hurriedly closed the door and moved to sit beside the curious creature.

"What on earth am I going to do with you?" She asked glancing doubtfully at the few empty aquariums she still had lining the far wall of the living room.

The creature, which she could only assume was male did not respond. Out cold, his breath came in shallow, raspy gasps through parted green lips. His plastron, lightly scarred rose and fell. Across his domed forehead were beads of sweat as if he'd been physically stressed. Olive colored skin stretched over muscled shoulders and toned arms and legs. The only clothing is seemed to be wearing was a purple bandanna, tied over it's eyes, and an old, worn leather belt tied around where Brooke assumed it's hips would be. Other than those two bits of clothing, he only carried a small duffel bag, strapped across his chest.

"What kind of DNA crossing could have done this to you?" She wondered aloud, feeling disgust pour like acid into her gut. her stomach twisted at the thought of scientists crossing species to create things like the creature lying before her.

Gingerly, she reached a hand out to touch the turtle's shoulder. His skin was surprisingly warm, she realized, before quickly pulling her hand away as if it had shocked her. Clutching her hands at her chest, she looked over her shoulder at the front door. Her father would be home any moment and she was going to have a heck of a time explaining this one.

Before she had time to worry about where she would put the unconscious turtle-man a series of clatters and crashes sounded again from outside and she tensed, half standing; ready to dash to the door and bolt it if necessary. Suddenly, the front door was flung open and her father, looking thoroughly harassed burst through, slamming the door behind him and fumbling with the locks.

He panted heavily, his hair in disarray and his coat hanging at his elbows. It was quite apparent that he'd run there.

Eyes wild, he turned, gasping," Brooke! Where-"

Black hues found his daughter and the turtle lying near her, eyes lingering on the mutated creature. A look of familiarity seemed to pass across his troubled depths, but it was fleeting and in her panic, Brooke was not completely sure she'd actually seen it. In a second, his attention was back on her.

"You have to get out of here," Ronald Thompson said, his normally cool and collected disposition shredded with fear and a little craze.

"What's going on?" Brooke asked.

"Just climb out of the back window and..." He paused, his gaze dropping back to the turtle who was groaning and holding a hand to his head," get him out of here."

"B-but-" Brooke stammered, but her father rounded on her, fisting the front of her hoodie to draw her to her feet.

"Get out!" He snarled, pushing her.

She stumbled a few steps, feeling confused tears prickle her eyes. The turtle-man was blinking blearily around, though it froze when it noticed her father.

"You!" The terrapin cried, tensing and trying to stand, though a heavily bleeding cut on the inside of his thigh made him hissed and bared his teeth in anger at Ronald, who only glared back.

"You both need to get out of here. Now," he ground out ignoring his whimpering daughter to stare at the purple banded turtle," It's Bishop."

As if caught in indecision, the turtle stood still for a moment longer before releasing a small growl of defeat and turning, leaning heavily on the couch. He glanced over the trembling blond offered his hand.

"I know somewhere safe, but I can't get out of here without a little help," He said.

Brooke swallowed audibly, jumping when she heard banging outside the door. Awake and standing, the turtle seemed much more frightening, but his chocolate eyes harbored a gentleness that made her place her palm in his three fingered grip. He didn't wait for another order from her father before pulling the girl towards the window.

She noticed his limp and was quick to let him lean on her. The banging outside the front door seemed to grow louder and their track to the window at the far end of the house seemed to be painfully slow. Brooke looked back as they neared it and stopped dead. Her father was staying by the door, using what he could to barricade it.

"Dad!" She called. He stopped his frantic movements to look at her sadly. Sighing shakily, his eyes drifted to the turtle, looking more perplexed by the second.

"Donatello..." Sharp brown eyes turned to his," I'm sorry for... just please..."

Donatello frowned at the man whom, when he'd seen him in the past had been cold hearted and cruel, had tears in his eyes, silently begging him for help he did not deserve. The girl, however seemed rather ignorant of the situation and Donatello was not going to throw an innocent into a den of wolves.

"I'll protect her," The turtle said, flipping the window's latch and lifting the pane. Without further explanation, he lifted the protesting girl and dumped her unceremoniously out, following quickly behind her. He grabbed her arm and she fought to tear back towards the window, but he pulled her along as he limped towards the manhole in the alley.

"We can't leave him!" She cried, desperately trying to wrench her arm away, but the turtle named Donatello ignored her. More crashes leaked from the window and she could tell that whomever was hunting her father had broken in. With a strangled cry, she turned away to find that the turtle had stopped and was staring at her.

"We have to get some where safe..." He said gently and gestured the man hole he'd uncovered. Throwing one last look at her apartment, she nodded.

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A/N: I know, no Leatherhead, but I promise he'll be in the next chapter. :)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: For my lone reviewer, Mark, yes Leatherhead will be anatomically correct, as pertaining to that of a crocodile. I figured this was best considering the little fact that he has had a tendency to run around with very little clothing before; such as in the third season, I think, where he is often seen wearing only a purple belt. Also, my impression of LH is that he does not like humans much at all, thanks to Bishop, and, also thanks to Bishop's experimentation, has trouble keeping control of his more feral side, so, yes, you will be seeing a lot of that. I've been doing plenty of research on crocodilian behavior, but if you notice something that isn't accurate, please let me know! Thank you for your review and I hope you continue to follow this story.

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Beauty and the Beast: A Leatherhead Story

Rated: M

Chapter Two:

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As the petite girl shakily descended the ladder into the sewers, her nose wrinkling from the stench that rose to meet her, Donatello glanced nervously over his shoulder. The noises of destruction floating over to them from the apartment were angry and growing louder. He had a feeling that the foot was not finding what they were looking for. If this girl didn't hurry and get into the sewer's passages, they were going to get caught and Donny was feeling a little worse for wear.

The deep cut on his thigh still burned a little, but it seemed to have mostly melted into a dull throb, though it didn't prevent the muscles around the injury from protesting his every move. That certainly was not the worst of his injuries. His left arm was going to be obsolete soon if it received any further abuse. As it was, he could barely lift it enough to steady himself on the slick and rusting ladder after the blond female. With one last glance around, he slipped the cover back over the manhole.

In the icy sewers, his could suddenly feel the warm sticky liquid leaking fluidly down his arm as if the blood was pumping a steady stream from his veins. As he dropped beside the shivering girl, who'd drawn her hood over her head and was curling into herself as her teeth chattered, he looked down the tunnel that lead to the lair. He was all ready feeling light headed. It was too far.

Not to mention the fact that he did not think that his oldest brother, Leonardo, would appreciate him adopting the daughter of one of their newest enemies. He could barely explain to himself why this girl was worth saving, he doubted he could convince his brother to keep his swords sheathed.

After Master Splinter had been kidnapped by Bishop and the Shredder, the Leonardo that Donny and his brothers had come to know and respect had turned into a vengeful, reclusive shadow of his former self. So consumed with finding their master, he locked himself in the dojo for days on end and had become far more violent than Raphael had ever been.

Their run ins with Shredder had only made him worse. Their armored nemesis had taunted Leo about the experiments they were performing on Splinter and took glee in the blue banded turtle's torment, especially because Leo had brutally slaughtered several of the foot ninja that night and even an innocent passerby.

Donatello's brother's suffering was affecting their whole family and this girl's father played a huge role in it. There was no way Leo would allow her to stay with them. As paranoid as he had become, he would only assume she was every bit as involved with the creation of experimental chemicals as her father had been.

No. The lair was definitely out of the question. April's apartment was also too far and Donny desperately needed medical attention. The closest friend he could think of was Leatherhead. He turned to look down the tunnel that led to their old lair, their crocodile friend's current home, and winced.

To say that Leatherhead was anti-social was an extreme understatement, but the purple masked turtle was out of options and, judging by the footsteps above, quickly running out of time.

"This way," Donatello whispered, using his good arm to point.

The girl nodded behind her hood and tentatively walked towards him. He wasn't sure if he was amused or offended by the way she seemed nervous about standing too close to him. Regardless, it would be interesting when she got her first look at his reptilian friend.

Donny waited only for her to step up beside him, then headed briskly, or as quickly as he could limp anyway, down the dark tunnel. His hand trailed along the damp, chilled walls half because it was getting difficult to see and half because he needed the support. This particular path had little to illuminate it and almost no manholes for moonlight to filter in. If he didn't know the New York sewers like the back of his hand, he'd surely get lost.

In the darkening tunnels, the girl began to stumble, making splashing sounds that really weren't _that_ loud, but considering the danger they were currently in that heightened Donny's senses, they seemed particularly jarring. Each little slosh and fumbling noise made his muscles tense until finally, he stopped and whipped a hand back. He grabbed around at nothing until he found her hand and hooked it into the back of his belt.

"Stay close, Ms. Thompson," He whispered," we both need to be very quiet. The Foot will definitely be looking for us. We're heading to a good friend's place where we'll hole up for a while. We need to get there quickly."

"The...foot?" She replied softly, voice laced with confusion. _Foot? As in giant, talking foot?_ She couldn't help but wonder, though she hesitated to say so. After seeing a mutated, muscled turtle walking upright, she was ready to believe anything.

Apparently, she didn't need to voice her pondering because the turtle in front of her seemed to guess what she was thinking anyway and explained.

"The Foot Clan are an elite group of ninja who work for an evil man who calls himself the Shredder," Donny said quietly, wondering to himself how Thompson managed to keep his other life hidden so well from his daughter, because from all appearances, she didn't seem to have a clue how deep her father had been in scientific torture or about his sinister employers. Donatello had yet to figure out what the man had been working on and he had a feeling that his daughter would not know either.

"But what do they want with my father...?" The girl murmured, voice cracking slightly. Donatello felt the subtle tightening around his waist and knew that the hand that gripped his belt was tightening as the girl struggled to get a handle on her emotions. His throat tightened as he considered what she must be going through. In her mind, it seemed, her father had done nothing wrong and for some reason was being attacked by ninja. She was probably picturing every possible scenario and considering Shredder's unforgiving nature, even her darkest imagining couldn't be too far from the truth.

Donny glanced over his shoulder and sighed, but did not have the heart to tell her just what Ronald Thompson had been involved in or why he deserved whatever punishment Shredder could deal out. Rather suddenly, his blood seemed to have considerably drained and the sewers around him, as dark as they were, spun.

Brooke squeaked when the full weight of the turtle suddenly fell against her. He shifted for footing, but was holding his head and groaning. Though her heart hammered in her throat from nervousness towards the unknown, her arms went around her only known savior to steady him. However, he stood a good inch or two taller than her and was quite a bit of bulk, so she found herself falling backwards under his weight as well with a cry.

Sinking, she still struggled to push him back up, but his skin, which had been warm before, was cold and he was trembling violently.

"Who goes there?" A deep, growling voice called, seeming to come from all directions.

Brooke looked around, fearing that they'd been found. At the far end of the tunnel, in the direction they'd been heading, was a light illuminating the passage. Silhouetted was a massive, bulking figure that seemed much larger than the turtle in her arms, whom she unconsciously held tighter.

"H-hey," She whispered to the terrapin, shaking his shoulders lightly and struggling to remember what her father had called him. It had been a very unusual name... something that began with a 'D', but her mind drew a blank.

"W-wake up, s-sir," She tried again, her voice whimpering as the huge figure came nearer. With the light flooding behind it, she could not make out any features, but could tell as he walked closer, he was well over six feet tall. Barely seeming to fit in the tunnel, as he walked, Brooke could hear a light scraping sound with each foot step. He paused several feet in front of her.

"I said, who goes there!" He growled again, his voice seeming to rattle her ribcage. The blond cowered behind the turtle.

"B-Brooke!" She stammered, earning a furious snarl.

The massive being stepped towards her again, dinner plate sized hand reaching for her, then it froze.

"Donatello?" He said, his voice a little less ferocious. A little.

Fortunately, the turtle who'd seemed very unconscious grunted and lifted his head.

"E-evening, LH," He said weakly," Hope you d-don't mind if I d-drop in..."

"My friend, you are injured," 'LH' stated before scooping the turtle up as if he weighed nothing," Come. Let's see what we can do for you."

Brooke sighed in relief when the weight was pulled off of her, but instead of standing, she warily watched the newcomer. She still could not make much out in the awkward lighting, but she was pretty sure that a thick tail was swinging lazily behind him. He seemed to survey her for a second.

"Follow!" He barked, sounding very irritated. When he turned away, Brooke saw the long, rough form of a snout and the glimmer of light off of sharp teeth and she swallowed a horrified whimper. _A monster_ her mind supplied and she wasn't sure which was a better idea... following him into his home or running back to the Foot Clan. Of course, though Donatello had not seemed to like him, her father appeared to trust the turtle a great deal. Shoving away the feelings of fear and doubt, she pushed from the wet sewer floor and followed the creatures she was once sure she'd never see outside of her own nightmares.

...

When the door to the other creature's home slammed behind her, Brooke was able to clearly see that this 'LH' was a gigantic reptile who not only spoke and walked upright but, unlike Donatello who wore almost nothing at all, was wearing a long, white lab coat with a small tear at his left shoulder. As he walked away from her, the reptile enthusiast in her eagerly took in the details of his appearance. He had a wide snout, which seemed to imply alligator heritage, but his jawline destroyed that theory.

Whereas an alligator's upper jaw was wider than the lower and thus hid the lower teeth from view, this particular reptile proudly bared both rows of teeth. As if sensing her analyzing stare, the crocodile's head turned sharply and yellow eyes narrowed irritably. Brooke hastily looked away, her heart leaping into her throat for the umpteenth time that day.

She instead occupied herself with surveying the living quarters, which was surprisingly homely. There was a distinct living room which included an outdated television topped by bunny ears, a rug, scratched up coffee table, and even a couch, beat up as it was. Lamps lit the area and she could see halls leading off to other rooms and she wondered if he even had a bed and blankets.

A kitchen was opposite the living room, complete with a stove, microwave, coffee pot and dirty dishes piled in the sink.

Brooke tried to appear like she was looking anyway but at the two mutants, but from the corner of her eye, she kept watch. On the far side of the room, the crocodile had a corner crammed with lab equipment. She couldn't help but wonder how he'd managed to acquire so much. He even had a computer, which looked much nicer than her own. Cabinets lined the walls, a large chalkboard bore several equations and notes, and a metal table sat a little ways out. This was where 'LH' set Donatello.

Thoroughly ignoring the human girl, he set to work patching up his friend.

Despite herself, Brooke was intrigued by the way the crocodile threaded a needle and tenderly sewed up the gory cut on Donatello's shoulder after cleaning it. He was graceful and precise, not hindered in the slightest by his large, three fingered hands.

The purple masked turtle gritted his teeth and turned away, his eyes squeezed shut. Tentatively, she moved forward, frowning at the obvious discomfort the terrapin who'd saved her was in.

As she neared, she said," Is there anything I can do?"

Amber eyes narrowed dangerously," I think you have done enough, girl."

"LH," Donatello breathed," She is not the cause of this... t-the Foot. Bishop."

"That is enough, my friend. Save your energy. We will discuss this later," 'LH' said in a way that Brooke supposed was meant to sound kind, but with his gravelly voice still sounded threatening to her. She stood awkwardly watching as the large, clawed hand gently pushed the turtle back onto his carapace.

"Rest. I will let Leonardo know of your whereabouts," 'LH' pulled out a syringe and a small vial.

"N-no sedative, please..." Donatello requested," And... if you don't mind... don't tell Leo about..."

Brooke shifted and took a step back as both eyes settled on her, frowning.

"I'll explain why later, I promise..." The turtle's words were slurring as his blood loss seemed to consume his mind. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and slept.

"Hmph," Grunted the crocodile. He replaced the vial into the same cabinet he took it from. It was fine with him. Donatello did not seem to need it anyway. He was completely worn out. In any case, sedatives were hard to come by, so not needing to use one was a blessing.

"Um..." Brooke said nervously, gaining the reptile's attention. She struggled to not cower away, but failed miserably. The corners of 'LH's' mouth twitched upwards in an amused smirk at her obvious fear of him. He stood and towered over her, almost laughing out loud as the tremble that shook her shoulders.

Wide blue orbs, however, stayed on his face, meeting his stare in spite of her fright. He had to give her kudos for that much. He was not ignorant of his terrifying appearance. Finally, he broke her gaze and looked towards the couch. As much as he hated having a human in his home, it seemed that until Donny woke, he did not have a choice.

"Go. Sit," were his clipped instructions.

Thankfully, the girl had enough sense to listen to him because just her presence was putting his nerves on end. If she so much as sent him a challenging look, he knew he was going to lose it.

He tossed Donatello's request to not tell Leonardo about her around in his mind. On one hand, if he did tell the leader, Leo would surely take her off of his hands in a heartbeat. On the other hand, he would be breaking his friend's trust. As much as he liked all the turtles, Donny was the only one he would consider a true friend with whom he could relate to on multiple levels. He wasn't going to put that in jeopardy.

Sighing, he tried to calm himself as he dialed Leo's shell cell on the phone he and Donny had specially designed for his large fingers and razor sharp claws. Regular phones seemed to shatter in his grasp, let alone when he actually tried to dial. It had been infuriating to go through phone after phone, but as gentle as he tried to be, it just wasn't enough.

The phone rang several times before going to voice mail. As he heard the cell's owner's serious voice, he could feel a faint prickling on the back of his neck and he knew that the innocent blue eyes of the human girl were pasted to his back. He growled a warning, but did not look at her.

"Leonardo, it is Leatherhead. Donatello is injured and with me. Do not worry, he'll be fine; he's resting now and will be good as knew in a few hours. I'll have him call you as soon as he wakes."

"Leatherhead..." A voice whispered behind him, the awe of discovery lacing it's sickly sweet tone.

Growling, Leatherhead set the phone down a little harder than he meant to and shot a look over his shoulder that clearly meant: _Shut up. Don't talk. Ever._

The girl only blinked at him.

"What are you staring at?!" Leatherhead roared, throwing his arms wide and sinking onto his haunches as if ready to lunge at her. His eyes narrowed into slits as his lips peeled back, further exposing his teeth.

His hot temper quelled slightly as he smelled the salty scent of tears before he could see them glossing her eyes. Sighing heavily, his muscles relaxed and he covered his eyes. He hated humans.

"I'm really sorry..." The girl said, her voice high pitched with emotion as she sniffed," I didn't mean..."

Oh, he hated humans so much.

Sighing again, he let his hand run down his snout and looked evenly at her. Eyes red, she looked down shamefully, curly blond hair curtaining her pale round cheeks.

"Just..." Leatherhead said, trying to keep his tone calm and breath," Just don't stare at me. Sit there. Be quiet."

"I-I'm so-" Brooke began to say, but was cut off by an irritated growl, so she nodded and sat back, hugging her knees and hoping she'd wake from this nightmare any moment. She nodded an affirmative as the crocodile did not move, seeming to wait for some sort of non-verbal response.

Leatherhead turned away and looked disdainfully towards the unconscious Donatello. The sooner he woke up the better. He considered putting together a sort of makeshift adrenaline serum. He'd figured out how not too long ago and, though it wasn't as powerful as natural adrenaline, it was sufficient. Still, in the long run, it would only hurt his friend more. His shoulders sank in resignation. His only option was to wait.

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	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Original and intense? Not a bad idea? Well, I guess that makes up for only getting three reviews last chapter! 1woof1, I'm beginning to see you around more and more! I'm wondering why you haven't just created an account for yourself! Not that it matters, of course. I appreciate your reviews, anyway. It would just be nice to reply once in a while.

Same goes for you, Mark! I wanted to let you know that that link you tried to give me in the last review isn't visible, however I am always eager for new research material and I'm open to any information you have. For whatever reason, FF won't allow us to post links in reviews. Jealousy or something, I don't know. And, so you know, the encounter between LH and Brooke about her reptile enthusiasm is not too far off and may not be a pretty one at first. From my understanding, LH is a defensive character, similar to Raphael, who can fly off the handle at any moment. Admittedly, it's not his fault, but Bishop's, but I can see him getting offended that Brooke keeps his... 'relatives' in kritter keepers. Well, I'm not going to ruin the entire scene for you up in the author's notes! You'll just have to watch it play out in the near future. :)

Thank you also, FantasyMagicGirl! I hope I don't disappoint. :)

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Beauty and the Beast: A Leatherhead Story

Rated: M

Chapter Three:

Leatherhead stared at Donatello unblinkingly for several minutes. The only sign of his clenched jaw was the slight tremor a little muscle at his temple had taken. Consequently, it also caused his left eye to twitch. He expected the teen to announce that he was joking at any moment, but the longer he looked at the purple masked terrapin, who only frowned seriously back; he began to realize that what he'd said was no joke.

Releasing the breath he'd been holding in a low snort, the crocodile looked over his shoulder at his couch. The girl's body wasn't visible, hidden by the back of the beaten furniture, but her curly blond hair hung over the arm. Donatello had not awoken until well into the early hours of the morning. Thankfully, the girl hadn't said a word, but Leatherhead was sure he'd caught a quiet sniffle once in a while. Eventually, she fell asleep.

Used to being alone, the soft sounds the girl kept making in her sleep were very distracting to Leatherhead. Despite his attempts to keep his mind on a program he was co-writing with Donny for their security systems, the little whimpers and sighs kept pulling his attention away from his computer screen. It was a sharp interruption in his otherwise obtuse lifestyle and he was not particularly eager to let it linger.

Turning yellow eyes back to the turtle, who was still leaning quietly against the counter in his kitchen, his lip curled in a snarl.

"So..." He said, voice deliberately slow and calm," what you're asking is for me to let this... _human_ girl stay with me?"

Donatello's chin dipped in a single nod.

"Because you think Leo might hurt her?"

Another nod.

"Ah... Donatello..." Leatherhead took a deep breath and let it hiss through his teeth in heavy sigh," What makes you think she would be safer with me? You know of my... condition. You and your brothers are cherished friends, yet I have managed to almost kill two of your brothers before."

"Years ago, LH. You're better now. You're patient and kind. I know she would be safe here," Donny explained," Please. I gave her father my word."

"Her father is more a monster that you and even I could ever be!" Leatherhead snarled back.

Both mutants paused when a squeak of depressing cushions came from the living room. They watched for further movement, but Brooke seemed to slumber on.

In a lower voice, Donatello responded," She is _innocent_, LH. I don't know what Thompson was working on, but I bet he's made sure it was well hidden. This girl will be in grave danger if we send her back up there."

"My friend, you are asking a lot of me..."

"I know, LH, but she has no where else to go. April and Casey have enough going on with planning their wedding. Besides, Casey would surely tell Raph about her, he'd let it slip to Mikey, and before we'd know what had happened, the whole city would know that Brooke Thompson was hiding out in a little apartment above Second Chance Antiques..."

Leatherhead tried to hold his resolve and stare evenly at the turtle who was grinning back up at him, but he couldn't help the chuckle that pushed from his mouth. Michelangelo certainly was a loudmouth. He couldn't keep a secret if he tried. As it was, with his occasional escapades as the "Turtle Titan", he was barely keeping his family's secret on the down low.

"Humans have their own protective system... police, I believe they are called. You could turn her over to them," It was a half hearted argument.

"Do you honestly think there is anywhere the police could hide her that the Foot wouldn't be able to find her? In recent years, the Foot has expanded and corrupted more of the city's more important officials than ever before. I can't say for sure, but I think the police force is no longer a safe source to rely on," Donny explained, though he knew Leatherhead was all ready fully aware of this.

His crocodilian friend really was a reclusive reptile, not that he could blame him. Since their troubles with Bishop years ago, including not only the time he'd experimented on Leatherhead, but also the time he'd mutated Donny's genes and turned him into a monster, the crocodile had been less than trusting of human kind.

The two males stared at each other in silence and Donatello was beginning to think that it was a lost cause. Mentally berating himself for even considering it, he was about to retract the request when the larger mutant sighed, a rather frightening sound if one didn't know what to look for. The air pushed from his snout in a low, grunting whoosh that was reminiscent of a soft growl.

"Fine," Leatherhead finally responded.

Donatello barely held himself back from whooping out loud at his success. He settled for a grin, if only because the girl was still sleeping soundly on the couch. The crocodile was turned away from him, watching him from the corner of his eye. He was trying to look stern, but the subtle twitch of the corner of his mouth betrayed that he was amused by his friend's excitement.

"How long?" Leatherhead grumbled.

Unperturbed by his friend's short responses, Donny replied," Until we can unravel and put a stop to whatever Bishop and the Foot are working on before it gets too big. Together Karai and Bishop are formidable. They haven't enlisted the Purple Dragons, yet, but if they do, things will get that much worse. Hopefully, with the fervor that's been driving Leo and your help decrypting their programs when we get our hands on them, we'll take them down soon."

Very soon could be several months at best. Soon was even longer. It honestly did not sound very promising. Leatherhead had gained some control of himself, but he wasn't entirely confident that he would be able to keep his head with a human for so long.

Once, Leatherhead thought that the experiments Bishop had performed on him had destroyed him forever. He was suddenly consumed by irrational anger and was prone to frighteningly frequent violent outbursts. They seemed beyond his control, despite his attempts to get a grasp on them. It was as though his rational consciousness would take temporary leave and the ancient primal instinct of the Crocodile in him would take over, attacking anyone who seemed to test him.

While Leonardo, Raphael, and Michelangelo kept their distance, and even became distrustful of him- Leonardo even went so far as to accuse him of dragging children into the sewers and killing them when bodies were mysteriously appearing in the dank tunnels- Donatello seemed to make an extra effort to spend time with him. The purple clad turtle encouraged him to meditate and try to put a leash on the animal urges.

At the same time, Donatello had helped him put together a computer, then a miniature lab, where they spent many late nights researching calming agents. They even created a few, but his bulk and the complex structural system he inherited from his ancestors wouldn't take, even to stronger doses. They accidentally made one that was too strong once and Leatherhead was knocked out for almost a week. Donatello had feared that he'd gone comatose.

In the end, after years of ritually performing it, what helped him gain some control was meditating. He still had some tantrums, but they were far less violent. He hadn't felt like a danger to his friends in a very long time. It seemed his outbursts, while still very random, were limited to yelling and/or roaring. But, he was very proud to admit that he had not laid a single finger on any one without meaning to.

Because of his friend's never ending patience with him, he felt he owed him a great deal.

So, Leatherhead nodded solemnly.

...

Brooke wasn't sure what time she woke.

Somehow, while asleep, she'd convinced herself that the prior night's events were a very detailed and elaborate nightmare. She was sure she'd been spending far too much time volunteering at the animal shelter. Talking turtles and mutant crocodiles, indeed.

The couch cushions were lumpy and uncomfortable beneath her and her back ached. As she sat up and rubbed the heel of her hand over her eyes, she noted that she'd have to tell her father that they needed to get a new one or she was going to hold his bed hostage. One thing that her father hated most was shopping. He avoided replacing things at any cost. Several of their possessions even had unsightly duct tape holding them together. This time, Brooke vowed that she would be the victor and they were replacing the old couch. After she got some breakfast, of course!

Their condominium smelled different.

That was the first thing she noticed.

Usually the first thing she smelled in the morning was the pine scent of the aspen wood shavings she used in her reptile's tanks. Then, the rich aroma of her father's third pot of coffee brewing would waft over to her. However, what she smelled was neither of these things. The room smelled damp and a little sour.

Frowning, Brooke let her hands drop to her sides and she jolted, pressing herself back against the couch and clenching her hands under her chin insecurely as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings.

The beat up coffee table with hundreds of rings from sweaty cups, old discolored rug, and small bulky television stared blankly back at her.

She was still in the sewers, she realized, quickly looking around for the mutants. There were no walls separating the lab from the kitchen or those areas from the living room. All furniture was organized in one large room, coordinating items clustered together so the different areas were still distinctly separated.

Brooke bit her lip as she realized that neither mutant was present. They wouldn't have abandoned her, would they?

Nerves buzzing, the blond dropped her gaze to her lap, where a thin, brown blanket that sported only a few holes pooled at her waist. Surely, if one of them, probably the turtle she figured, had thought to take the care of covering her up, then they wouldn't leave her alone.

Near the living room was a hall, too dark from shadows for her to make anything out. Perhaps there were rooms down there where the mutants had retreated to sleep.

Brooke wanted to stand and have a look around, but the flashing teeth and obvious hostility that the crocodile man had displayed towards her was still very vivid in her mind. She wasn't sure if he'd appreciate her snooping around his home and she couldn't help but picture his powerful jaws crushing her head with remarkable ease.

Brooke's intrigue with reptiles had been preceded by a craze for dinosaurs. Naturally, she'd been very interested by Crocodiles, which were living, breathing dinosaurs and if she remembered correctly, they had a powerful bite of 5000 pounds per square inch.

It was impossible to tell if this Leatherhead had the same capacity, but she wasn't sure if she'd be willing to test it out. So she sat rigidly on the couch for the better part of an hour. Before long, however, her nerves began to buzz and she couldn't convince herself to stay put.

The more her mind cleared, the more she thought about the previous night's events. Everything seemed so bizarre and she vaguely wondered if this was some elaborate hoax.

Brooke got the impression that her father was into something he shouldn't have been. She'd always thought he was some writer, though his paranoid habits, such as his distrust for computers, were a little odd. She'd figured his repulsion to technology had something to do with his growing up in a small, secluded town. His parents had also frowned upon computers.

However, now, she wondered if he was actually doing something illegal and simply did not want it documented or stolen. Funny, those hackers were viewed as more dangerous now than actual burglars.

A loud thump startled Brooke from her ponderings. Jumping slightly, she looked toward the kitchen, where the sound seemed to have originated from, but saw nothing. Tense and frowning, she continued to stare, craning her neck and leaning forward. Several more thumps and a small scraping noise followed the first.

"What on earth…" She whispered, curiosity pulling her sore body from the couch and leading her to the dark room.

Dishes were still piled precariously in the sink and the counter tops were still a little dusty. Leatherhead didn't seem to clean up daily, she noted. Of course, why would he need to? She couldn't imagine that he had a lot of visitors.

Mismatched cabinets and counters had been stuck together to form an island of sorts. This was where the sink was. And, also where the thumps were continuing.

Tentative, Brooke paused a little way away from the cabinets and peered around.

A three pronged silver hook hung from the sink. It connected to a thin pole that trailed down the cabinet door to meet a small, metal box. On the plane opposite to where the pole disappeared into was another three pronged metal piece, this one not a hook shape.

On top of the box were two raised sphere's that were reminiscent of eyes. The solid black orbs squinted up at the top of the counter. What appeared to be the front of the contraption was a striped white rectangle that lit up and glowed every time the thing clicked or beeped. Finally, hanging from the bottom were two wheels, half hidden inside the metal cube.

Raising a confused eye brow, the blond watched as the little robot tried to pull itself up. Unfortunately, Brooke realized with an amused giggle, it didn't seem to be a particularly _smart_ robot. Though it had successfully hooked what seemed to be it's hand into the dip of the sink, when it tried to reel itself up, it kept hitting it's head on the cabinet knob and was halted in it's tracks, only to lower itself a few inches and try again.

It couldn't seem to figure out why it wasn't making it to the top and the robotic eyes became half lidded, the top lid slightly slanted in what appeared to be irritation. But, it kept trying.

The roughly foot and half tall robot, made out of uncoordinated scrap metal, was kind of cute.

Slipping around the counter, Brooke scooped the little robot up.

Distracted by the interruption of its lack of progress, it's black eyes swiveled to her, regarding her by blinking slowly. It seemed almost… animal-like.

Smiling softly, Brooke set it on the counter, where it continued to stare at her as if it had never seen anything like her before. And, perhaps it hadn't. While the two mutant males she'd met were bizarre and unusual to her, maybe she was the strange one down here.

Seeing that it wasn't moving on to whatever it had meant to do, Brooke said," Um… do you have a name?"

She hadn't had any experience with any sort of robot, but the ones in movies almost always seemed to be able to talk. It was as good of reasoning she could come up with because she wasn't about to admit that she was lonely and scared and wanted someone to talk to.

The little robot made a hissing noise, the white rectangle glowing again, before saying in an inhuman, crackling voice that only machines seemed able to replicate," Lu-u-ma."

It followed the single word with a series of chirps that sounded rather excited. The bulbous eyes closed as it continued to make small sounds of cheer, reminding her vaguely of a content cat.

Brooke bit her bottom lip. She could have melted. It was the cutest robot she'd ever seen. Not that she had much to compare to.

"Well, I'm Brooke," She replied," What were you getting ready to do?"

Before it could reply, a growling voice barked from the shadows of the hall," Lume!"

"Eep!" The robot, Lume, squeaked, sinking lower on it's wheels to roll quickly over to the sink, where it started to pull all the dishes out.

Brooke swallowed thickly and looked fearfully over her shoulder.

Leatherhead's bulking form emerged from the shadows. Yellow eyes, narrow with irritation, though paired with his gleaming fangs and stooping posture made him looked murderous, he lumbered towards the kitchen, warily watching as the human girl instinctively raised her hands and took a step back.

"I didn't mean to…" She wasn't sure what exactly she hadn't meant to do because as the human-like crocodile neared and towered over her petite form, her mind drew a blank and she could only stare. Which, a small voice reminded her in the back of her head, the reptile had angrily ordered her not to do.

Flinching, her eyes dropped instantly to his three toed, clawed feet padding across the cement ground, curving black claws clicking with each step. They stopped a few feet in front of her.

They two stood in silence until Leatherhead snorted, sounding, according to Brooke, annoyed.

However, since she misinterpreted his reaction, she ducked her head lower," I'm really sorry!"

Leatherhead resisted the urge to roll his eyes at this quivering, pathetic excuse of a human. She wouldn't even look him in the eye because she was so scared of him. Not that he could blame her. By human standards, even by Utrom, he was pretty frightening to behold. Of course, it wasn't until he'd come to earth that he realized that his appearance was nightmare provoking. As long as he'd lived on the blue planet, he couldn't get over disliking those who wanted to turn tail at the sight of him.

His lip curled in disgust, but he willed himself to remain calm. If they didn't establish some sort of understanding, the next few months were going to seem much longer.

"It's fine," He was pleased that his gravelly voice held no anger and was encouraged to continue when the girl seemed to notice as well, her eyes lifting slightly to look at him through her curly mess of hair. It was a start.

"His uh… name is Lume…" He said lamely. With Donatello he could talk for hours, but for whatever reason, when a human came into the picture, his mind would go blank. After the time he'd spent with the purple banded turtle trying to calm his fury, they'd come to the conclusion that this was because of a lingering irrational fear of all humans thanks to Bishop. It was ridiculous, considering his size and strength, but Leatherhead didn't seem able to control it.

Talking to any human was just too hard. They didn't want to hear what he had to say anyway.

He blinked slowly when he realized that the girl was looking curiously at him. Her brows were furrowed and her lips formed a small frown. He stared back in confusion. She seemed to be waiting for him to do something. As he felt a familiar burning in his gut, he clenched his fists, but the girl, oblivious to his rising irritation, finally spoke.

"I um… asked if you… made him," She said.

Even with Leatherhead's sensitive hearing, her voice sounded so soft he had to pause and almost hold his breath to hear what she said. He resisted the urge to lean forward and twist his ear towards her as she spoke.

The reptile frowned a little and leaned back as if seeing the girl for the first time. Cocking his head, he eyed her curiously. Silly think quaked in terror under him one second, and then blinked big blue questioning eyes at him the next. Humans would never make any sense to him.

"Yes, I did," He replied shortly, his voice clipped, though it didn't seem to stop her.

Brooke smiled. Leatherhead had created the cute little robot who was tossing dishes into soapy water. They clattered dangerously against each other, but didn't seem to break. _Anything that could create something like Lume couldn't possibly be all bad, right?_ She reasoned to herself.

"What does he do?" She asked.

Leatherhead felt nervous and cornered as Brooke smiled up at him. She still looked unsure and kept her distance, but was interested in questioning him nonetheless.

"Erm… the… dishes?" The crocodile's mind drew another blank and he angrily cursed himself mentally. To make matters worse, the girl laughed. She tried to stifle it with her hand, but a squeaking giggle escaped and her eyes danced with mirth.

The familiar heat began to bubble again and Leatherhead snarled, quickly wiping any sign of amusement off of Brooke's face, which only added fuel to the quickly growing fire. Before he could say, or do, something he'd regret, he whirled away, barking over his shoulder.

"Follow me!" He'd show her where she was allowed to sleep, then forbid her from going into any of the other rooms, particularly his.

His head lowered as he grit his teeth as he heard the scamper of rubber soles on cement of the girl hurrying to follow his long strides. Her tension had piqued again. He could practically smell the waves pouring off of her. It made his blood boil.

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A/N: So uh... I totally meant for them to get beyond settling in this chapter so I could get around to retrieving Brooke's reptiles for you, Mark, but this chapter just wouldn't end! Sorry. ^^;


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: omg! An update! FINALLY! I know. I am so sorry guys! lol

Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to Mark for being such a dedicated reviewer.

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Beauty and the Beast: A Leatherhead Story

Rated: M

Chapter Three:

She was staring at him.

Leatherhead knew that Brooke had her piercing gaze glued to his back.

He could feel those blue eyes piercing through his scales. The back of his neck prickled as he glowered at the blinking cursor waiting for a command. For some reason, he couldn't remember what he'd been about to type. The danged woman was too distracting. He was used to solitude and having another person there was throwing him off.

In a word, it was irritating.

Hunched over the old key board, his claws hovering over the keys, paused in mid motion as the words fled from his mind. Nerves twisted in his gut and he tried to ignore the human girl that he knew was horrified of him. She hadn't said a word and regarded him mostly in silence.

Leatherhead hated humans. They were too curious for their own good; so abhorred by anything not like them. Supposedly a superior species, they were incredibly closed minded and even had cruel views of the strange. It made him grind his teeth.

Why Donatello thought his lair was the best place for this human was beyond him. There was nothing for her to do, but stare. He had no cable, since he couldn't be bothered to fix the antenna he'd broken not too long ago, and any books he had around were either medical or scientific. What had Donatello expected? For them to communicate?

He may as well talk to a sewer wall. At least it wouldn't try to dissect him.

So, with nothing better to do, the girl would monitor _him_ for some ungodly reason and it was driving him _insane_. Her watchful eyes would follow him around the lair as he moved about, gaze focused and intelligent. He could see that she was visually drawing and quartering him. She did, however, seem to have enough sense to look away whenever he'd turn to face her.

How could he be expected to work with her staring at him like that? Knowing she'd be much happier to have him strapped to a table, guts strewn about? Or worse.

Unable to handle the icy fingers of paranoia tickling his spine, Leatherhead whirled in his chair and burst to his feet to roar into the living room. Unfortunately, in his furious movement, the chair was flung from beneath him, bumped by his knees, and crashed into his desk, knocking over the monitor. A small crash and pop followed and Leatherhead did not need to look to know he'd broken it.

Brooke looked up wide eyed from her spot on the couch where she'd seemingly been inspecting an old, ratty carpet under the coffee table where Lume was busying himself by picking up tiny bits of flint. Leaned forward with her chin resting on her folded arms, her upper body was lying along her legs, even as he bellowed.

His bone shattering roar made her freeze and peer up at him in fear, but it was apparent that before his outburst, she'd been minding her own business. As his roar died, the silence was filled with the soft whir of spinning gears from Lume, who was not bothered by the commotion and continued to pick up.

She hadn't even been looking in his direction, Leatherhead realized with a small twinge of embarrassment. Wasn't even looking… he was going to lose his mind with this human girl here.

Only one night had passed and her scent was every where. Sweet and somewhat musky, it was a thick and stifling scent that seemed to cloak his entire lair. It had been the first thing he'd detected when he woke and he'd even thought it somewhat pleasant until his mind supplied its source. Then, he'd wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Heaving a sigh, he ran a hand over his eyes and down his snout as he willed himself to calm down. Behind him, his sensitive ears could pick up soft sparks still popping in the broken computer screen. It did nothing to help his mood.

To make matters worse, he wouldn't be able to work now and Leonardo had insisted that it was imperative for him to try to get into Bishop's computers and find any information he could on Splinter's whereabouts. In the meantime, Donatello would be working on the Foot's files.

He didn't have a moment to waste. A trip to the dump was in order. He nodded to himself thoughtfully. Plenty of old monitors were thrown away daily. He'd have no problem retrieving one. But, his yellow eyes swiveled to the girl on his couch still watching him warily, what to do with the girl?

"Is everything all right, er… Leatherhead?" She stumbled over his name as she looked shyly up at him, obviously feigning concern and trying to be brave under his glower. His left eye twitched as he noted the gentle flush on her cheeks and he snorted, turning away to ignore her completely. Stupid, deceitful human.

Rubbing his jaw in thought, he knew taking her to the turtle's lair was out of the question since he'd all ready promised that he would keep her a secret for a while and though he was easily double Leonardo's size, he didn't feel particularly up to tackling the turtle's new found rage.

He couldn't very well leave her in his own lair. What if she decided to leave? She could report him to authorities and, assuming they believed her, his lair would be swarming with dangerous armed men in no time at all.

Short of taking her with him, the only other option was the turtle's human friends, April and Casey. He grimaced. These two humans weren't all bad, but he wasn't too keen on asking them for help. He growled to himself because that left…

He turned slowly, eyes narrow and neck tense. She sat upright now and blinked innocently at him. As he regarded her with what he hoped was obvious annoyance, she only cocked her head, brows furrowing slightly and lips curving into a frown.

"Follow me," He demanded irritably, turning sharply to stalk to the door.

He could here her shifting as she got up to follow, but apparently she couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

Sighing as he trudged into the damp halls outside of his lair, he begrudgingly responded," the dump."

"For a new screen," She supplied.

"Indeed," He replied shortly.

Brooke wasn't completely stupid. Her mind was able to quickly put two and two together. It was obvious that a mutant like Leatherhead wouldn't have the means to walk into a store and certainly didn't have an address to which online orders could be delivered to, so the city dump was a means to acquire necessary things, such as a new monitor.

The broken computer screen had not gone unnoticed by her. She'd been alarmed by his strange and sudden outburst and had wondered if perhaps the growling of her empty stomach, because all ready it was evening and she hadn't eaten anything all day, was disturbing his work; her father definitely hated any sounds when he was trying to write.

However, even now, her stomach twisted painfully, but she was somewhat shy about asking for food. She was hoping at some point, the crocodile would eat, perhaps putting the idea in his head that she might be hungry, too, but he only diligently worked in his corner, barely moving to do anything at all.

She looked ahead at his lumbering form. He still wore the worn lab coat with the rip on the sleeve. Though she couldn't see now, she knew it hung open in the front and he wore nothing underneath, so she imagined he wore it mostly for the large pockets on the front and perhaps to protect his arms when he worked with the chemicals she'd seen stowed neatly in a dark corner.

Over the course of the day, she was able to deduce that this mutant was nothing like his kin. He was a thinker, for one thing. He had several science books on a damaged book shelf that looked very loved, as their spines were cracked and peeling from use. Also, his eyes, the glimpses she caught while he was working, were intelligent and focused.

Crocodiles, Brooke knew, were naturally incredibly intelligent anyway. More intelligent than the smartest dog, new studies showed. Leatherhead had apparently inherited his kin's intelligence and, in becoming humanoid, gone beyond even most humans.

On the other hand, he was so quiet and seemed more than happy to keep to himself. Sure, he growled, snarled, and in general sent her several dark looks, which she easily attributed to hostility towards humans, not her specifically, but he hadn't shown any signs of actually wanting to hurt her.

Brooke bit her lip as she wondered what his response would be if she asked to go to her apartment. Reptiles typically didn't require a whole lot of attention, but a couple needed feeding or medication. Plus, she'd left her newest addition sitting in pedialyte. He probably soaked up the energy he needed and slithered out, but he'd definitely need some heat since he was so weak.

She had to risk it.

"Leatherhead?" she asked, trotting slightly closer to try to see his face. He grunted in response but stared stiffly ahead. He could probably see much better than she in the dark tunnels. She could make out shadows and dark shapes, but just in case she stayed close enough that every now and then, the tip of his tail, swinging slightly as he walked, would tap her ankles.

At his elbow, she looked uncertainly up at him, nervously tapping her fingertips together," Could we stop at my apartment while we're up there?"

Leatherhead shot her a suspicious glance and said," It's too dangerous."

At the same time, he noted to himself that humans enjoyed changing their clothes on a regular basis and had certain sanitary needs that didn't apply to him. He inwardly groaned to himself. He'd really gotten himself into a mess this time.

It wasn't like they could just go waltzing into her apartment. The Foot could still be there. And he tilted his head to sternly tell her no, but he caught a whiff of a gentle salty scent and the distressed look she gave him made his heart skip a beat. Stopping was obviously quite important to her.

"Please?" She begged, clasping her hands at her chest," It means a lot to me. I left my kids there and no one will take care of them if I don't stop."

Leatherhead stopped, turning to fully face her," You left your _kids_ in that apartment?"

When the Foot were attacking? How could someone be so cowardly? This was a new low that Leatherhead never thought humans could sink to. After all, they were supposed to have strong parental instinct, much like crocodiles. Evidently, this particular human lacked it.

"Well, everything happened so fast and some of their cages are kind of bulky…" She sighed, still staring pleadingly up at him.

_Cages_? This was new. He'd never heard of humans keeping their children in cages. It seemed… wrong. Very wrong.

He snarled at her in disgust, but she held up her hands defensively.

"It's not what you think!" Brooke chuckled, knowing exactly what her words sounded like, but she also wasn't sure how he would feel about keeping his distant relatives in glass tanks all over her living room. At least until he got there and saw them, she didn't want him to see. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too offended.

Brooke was walking on alien ground, here. She wasn't sure what could possibly offend a mutant crocodile, but judging by the many documentaries on them she'd seen, she didn't want to push her limit. He could very well feel indignant towards her keeping reptiles, even if it was for their sake. She'd have to risk it when they got there.

Still, he was giving her a rather reproachful look, but seemed to be waiting for a better explanation as to why she would keep children in cages.

"Well, they're not exactly my children. They were abandoned and sick. I've been caring for them," Still the only response she got was yellow eyes narrowing more, so she fervently added," I work at an animal shelter!"

"You do?" Leatherhead asked.

He strongly disliked humans, but those who loved animals were slightly better in his book. They tended to be patient, loving, and tender people. So he saw from distant observation.

"Well, yes… I'm actually their resident…um…" Brooke laughed nervously and ran a hand through her hair," Heh, I'm the local reptile lady."

Brooke smiled shyly up at the giant crocodile, hoping she hadn't in some way offended him. His eye ridges raised a fraction and he didn't look quite so fierce, so she took that as a good sign.

"Y-yeah. Most of the workers don't know much about the reptiles dropped off there, so I take them in, rehabilitate them, and try to find new, more suitable homes, though more often than not I bond so much I end up keeping them. I'm ah… actually studying to be a reptile vet since I love them so much. I'm actually a bit obsessed, really…" Brooke trailed off when an unreadable look crossed Leatherhead's face.

She paused, but reasoned to herself that, whatever expression he was giving her, at least it wasn't anger or disgust, which she could quickly pick out.

His features were exotic and unusual in the way they seemed to be a meld of human and crocodile; and his snout and broad mouth were formidable looking at best, but his eyes, an unearthly yellow were incredibly expressive.

The day she'd spent with him so far, those very eyes had only narrowed hatefully at her, but now they seemed to regard her as if he hadn't quite _looked_ at her before.

She felt somewhat uncomfortable under his silent stared and squirmed a little," I took home a juvenile ball python yesterday just before the attack. He was very sick, so uh… it would mean a lot if we could… you know, stop?"

Leatherhead didn't know what to say. A human who loved soft furry animals that they would cuddle with, like dogs and cats, were one thing. This girl apparently liked cold, scaly critters. Heck, she was studying them to help them professionally!

It occurred to him that she probably all ready knew a great deal about reptiles; perhaps even extending to wild ones, such as crocodiles. Suddenly, he felt a little uncomfortable wondering what she thought about him; if she was comparing him to his kin. Or worse, how many similarities she noticed.

"Dark, danky sewer to Leatherhead… _Come in_, Leatherhead!" Small pale fingers snapped at his snout and he blinked owlishly at her.

"Uh…" Was his _brilliant_ response.

Her lips spread in a crooked, amused smiled and she shook her head," Well? What do you think? Can we stop to feed my kids or not? Not to rush or anything, but a couple can get quite snap happy when starved. Plus… it's rather chilly down here…"

"E-er, yes. We can-_should_ stop to check on you're um…children," Leatherhead felt embarrassed heat rising up his neck and looked away from the petite girl chuckling to herself.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I'm sorry guys. I'm still alive, just had a lot going on. I enrolled into school and it wasn't as easy as I remember it being. It seems like all I ever do anymore is go to work and study. I know my updates have never been regular, but now they may get even more irregular because of this. If it's been a while since my last update, don't worry. I haven't abandoned my stories. Anyway, this is going to be a short one. I'll try to double the length of the next to make up for it.

Beauty and the Beast: A Leatherhead Story

Rated: M

Chapter Five:

The doorknob was cold beneath her fingers. Chills ran down her back as she hesitated to open the door. Some part of her expected to find her father maimed on their living room floor, blood and flesh covering all their humble belongings.

Brooke closed her eyes and swallowed thickly, banishing the gory images from her mind. When she was a child, her father used to tell her that she was too imaginative for her own good. After graduating high school, life kept her too busy to make use of that imagination, but since the attack, all she could do was picture the worst and she could only blame it on those horror stories she and her father shared a love for.

The thought only made her think about what she'd probably lost.

Very aware of the giant reptile behind her, as strangely quiet as he was being, she gathered whatever resolve she could and twisted the knob. It opened easily.

Even in the darkness, it wasn't hard to see that her imaginings were not too far off. Though her father's corpse was nowhere in sight, their home had been destroyed. Debris littered the tiny living room, the couch had been upturned-all the cushions cut open and emptied, all the drawers had been pulled from the desk furthest from the door and were scattered about, and shards of glass glittered in the moonlight.

"Oh no…" Brooke whispered, covering her mouth as she took a step in. Glass crunched under her feet, but she paid no mind to that. She couldn't pull her eyes from small bodies of her reptiles. Some had been crush and even severed in half as those strange Foot men tore through everything. Wood shavings, peat moss, and soil covered everything. Spots of something dark painted the walls and floor. She could only assume it was blood. Though she was sure some belonged to her reptiles, there was too much to have only been from them.

The sight was too much; she let out a sob and sank to her knees.

Tiny shards of glass cut through her jeans. She could feel them piercing her tender flesh. It burned and wetness soaked through the denim, but she didn't care. What was she going to do now? How could she stay here? Where would she go?

In a single night, her world had been turned upside down and she didn't know where to turn from there. The Foot people would surely come back. She couldn't stay. But, how could she go back with the mutants? She didn't even know them. Not to mention she had enough scientific knowledge to understand how unstable mutation was. If she did go, and it was looking as though her choices were limited, who knew what could happen. And what then? Would she hide in the sewers forever?

If she went to the police, they would never believe her. They might even pin her as a suspect. If anything, they'd say she was insane.

"Oh God…" She moaned, covering her face with her palms.

Leatherhead watched as the girl curled into herself, her hunched form beginning to tremble. He looked away and sighed.

"There is no God," he replied. She ignored him, apparently consumed by her despair.

He lifted his snout and sniffed the air.

Though it was old and stale, the stench of blood was thick. Despite the sourness that indicated the beginnings of decay, the sweet metallic scent still lingered. Deep in his gut, he liked the smell. His animalistic side wanted to breathe deeply and savor it. That made his tail curl in disgust.

Stepping around the woman, he surveyed the damage. Donatello and Leonardo would want to know every detail. From his point of view, the Foot had obviously been looking for something. Judging by the destruction that didn't seem to end in the living room, but actually extended into the kitchen and into the shadows of the hallway, he doubted they found whatever it was. It also explained the absence of Thompson.

He'd been around the man enough to tell that much of the blood in the room was his. He doubted Thompson was alive. However, he wouldn't have needed his sensitive nose to have come to that conclusion. The evidence was painfully clear. Over the years, Leatherhead had seen so many scenes like this that he could practically picture every move.

Dark lines trailing into the hall said that the attack started in the living room and then moved to the bedroom. Thompson had been dragged, probably half conscious, judging by the amount of blood everywhere.

In their expansion, the Foot clan was getting more vicious and less honorable. They probably barely touched their katanas in this attack. Blood splattered on the corner of the desk and on some spots along the wall as though they'd smashed Thompson's body parts in an effort to get him to talk. He wondered if he did. Whatever the man had, it was precious and probably very, very dangerous.

A small movement in the center of the room captured Leatherhead's focus. Frowning, he squinted in the darkness, watching for another move.

Glass glinted and he saw it! A tiny snake, no longer than six or seven inches long froze in its flee as if sensing the crocodile's stare.

Leatherhead glanced at Brooke. She had not moved.

How this tiny reptile had survived was beyond him. All the others were certainly dead or had all ready escaped.

He and Donatello all ready knew that the situation with the Foot clan and Thompson was getting out of hand, but now it was spinning out of control.

Leatherhead was not an ignorant crocodile. He knew how humans worked. Most were out for themselves. When given an opportunity, they take it without regard to others, especially mutants. Despite his dislike for humans, so far this woman had done nothing to him. He was not so mindless as his relatives. He wouldn't push her out the door into the hands of certain danger. If she must stay around, he could put forth _some_ effort.

As he neared the little creature, it sensed the predator in him and panicked. He could feel the fear and aggression levels rising and he knew he'd have to be fast, or it would escape. In one quick swoop, he captured the little snake. In an equally fast reaction, it swiveled its head and bit his hand. Little as it was, he couldn't feel a thing, but it only wriggled its head in a vain attempt to sink its teeth deeper.

"Miss Thompson?" He said softly, uncomfortable and unpracticed in the area of comfort. His skin prickled and his stomach flipped in displeasure at this task.

When the girl looked up, her pale cheeks were flushed and glistened with tears. Her eyes were guarded, which bothered Leatherhead. Until now, she'd been as easy to read as an open book. She'd had no qualms with showing her emotions plainly. Stupid, he thought, but useful—for him. Still, he cupped his hands, where the serpent had finally released his hand. Now, it was reared back, curving into an 's' shape and flicking it's tongue threateningly at him.

Brooke blinked owlishly at the snake for a few moments as though she wasn't quite sure what she was looking at. Finally, just when Leatherhead was getting really uncomfortable, she gingerly took the snake. As she did, it tried once last time to snap at him, missing completely. Rising stiffly, she cradled the reptile close to her chest and looked up at Leatherhead.

She didn't seem able to say anything, but her eyes welled with tears.

Leatherhead's study of human emotions had been inconclusive. It seemed that they cried whenever they felt any emotion, whether it be anger, sadness, or happiness. However, his studies had always been from a distance. Standing so close to Brooke, he could feel rather than see that she was grateful.

Embarrassed and now extremely uncomfortable, he turned away.

"We should go. It's dangerous to stay here," He said. She said nothing in response, but obediently followed.


End file.
